She stooped over, grabbed the end of the bag and started back down the trail again, but at the first step she stopped. It was the wrong end of the sack she had clutched, and the melon had rolled out into the sand.
"Oh, gracious! However did that happen?" she exclaimed aloud in horror, gazing with fascinated eyes at the battered, hopelessly scarred ball which had once been so smooth and round and green. Scarcely a bit of the skin remained on its sides, and a great, jagged crack almost split the thing in halves.
"Now, I've done it! What will Dad say? Guess I'll get a licking this time sure. Well, he needn't have said I lied. Serves him right that his old melon is spoiled. It's a pity to waste it, though. Guess I better eat it. If I am going to get licked, I may as well have the melon first; maybe it won't hurt so bad. It looks perfectly beautiful inside."
Down beside the shattered fruit she sat and began munching the red, sweet, juicy pulp which smelled oh, so good! But somehow the taste was bitter in her mouth, and the tempting morsels choked her when she tried to swallow them. She reviewed the previous day's happenings and began to wonder if she were entirely blameless. She had promised Mr. Carson not to get mad when folks teased her, and here she had not only got mad but had hurt Jerome, defied the teacher and stepped on her toes, wounded faithful Carrie by running away from her, angered her father and stolen his melon.
There was the sound of horse's hoofs and the rumbling of wheels on the hard roadbed, and around the rocky hillside appeared a light carriage driven by a portly, middle-aged man of professional appearance, who drew rein at sight of the child sitting there so disconsolately with the broken watermelon between her knees.
"Hello, sis," he said pleasantly, "can—"
"If you will follow the road you will reach Silver Bow in just a few seconds. It's right around that next curve," recited Tabitha rapidly, as if well accustomed to directing travelers.
The man smiled in amusement, and Tabitha wondered vaguely where she had seen him before, for he certainly looked familiar. "I happen to be staying at Silver Bow just at present, so I know where to go," he answered genially, removing his hat to fan himself, and exposing to view a head of wavy red-brown hair streaked liberally with gray. "I was going to ask you if you could tell me what you were doing up there and where you got that watermelon."
"Yes?"
He waited expectantly, but no further explanation was forthcoming, and he gently reminded her, "I am listening."